


Tea Cures All Ills

by angelsandbrowncoats



Series: Nygmobblepot Week 2017 [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nygmobblepot Week 2017, Sickfic, a one paragraph long mildly disturbing dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 23:56:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12143922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: Following his strangulation, Ed comes down with a cold. He insists that he can keep to their plans, but Oswald cancels their dinner and demands that Ed stay in and get some rest. Ed is sure he's projecting his own feelings onto Oswald, but he can't help but be disappointed anyway. His disappointment turns to apprehension when he confesses to some things during his illness-induced delirium. Oswald just wants to take care of his friend-turned-crush.





	Tea Cures All Ills

**Author's Note:**

> So I had a really fluff/crack idea for this prompt that I'd like to write someday, but I got sick while I was writing it so I scrapped the original and wrote a sickfic, since there's nothing more appealing to a sick person than complaining about colds. I hope Oswald's mother-henning in this is domestic enough.

"Where do you think you're going, Edward?" Oswald asked, blinking as he stood in the doorway. Ed froze with his hand on the doorknob of the mansion's front door. He turned to look at Oswald and Oswald noticed that even more color had drained from his face since the afternoon, except in the dark hollows around his eyes. He looked positively gaunt.

"I," Ed broke off in a cough, "I said I was going to get wine. For our dinner?"

Oswald gaped at him and he tilted his eyebrows back, "Don't you remember? You asked me to - Well," he coughed again, "You had something to tell me over dinner. I said I'd get wine."

"Ed, you can't honestly think I'm still planning on going through with that?"

"But I don't understand," Ed practically pouted.

"You're _sick_. I'm not forcing you to stand - or sit - on occasion," Oswald moved towards him, cautiously wrapping his fingers around Ed's elbow, a place he hoped was safe, and gently guiding him in the direction of the couch, "I'm going to make soup and sandwiches. And tea. Tea can solve anything. And then you're going to sleep. You need to rest."

Some of Ed's tension melted the moment Oswald's fingers touched his arm. He must have been stressing about holding himself together through the dinner, Oswald realized. He should have suspected some sort of aftermath to the attack. A weakened immune system and consequent cold weren't all that surprising.

And maybe, just maybe, he was glad for the excuse to keep putting off the inevitable.

"I'm not that sick," Ed protested weakly, his argument further destroyed by the sneeze that followed it.

"I'm sure," Oswald soothed, subconsciously channeling his mother's comforting behaviors, "But just to make sure it doesn't get any worse, I'm going to do everything I can to take of you. Because of the cold. Whatever you need. To help," he decided to stop talking before it got even worse.

It didn't help that Ed was looking at him with that stupid soft smile that would have put Helen of Troy to shame.

"Thank you, Oswald," he spoke serenely but sincerely, "You mean more to me than you could possibly imagine."

"Ed, I - "

"Don't answer. Please."

"Okay?" Oswald raised an eyebrow, confused, as he fussed over Edward, tucking a pillow behind his head and laying a blanket over him as he settled into the couch, "I'll be back in a bit with the food. Rest."

He felt a strong urge to kiss Ed on the forehead, but pushed it down. Ed was not sick enough to be delirious, so he couldn't risk it.

He hoped Ed got the message somehow anyway.

Oswald closed his eyes as he stood over the grilling sandwiches and warming soup. He was such a coward.

_But you can't tell him now. He's sick. What if it distresses him? See?_

At least, that's what he told himself.

~ ~ ~

Three days later and Ed had only gotten worse.

"Perhaps I should call a doctor - "

"No!"

"Ed, we're not wanted men anymore. They can't take you to Arkham..."

"But they can take me to a hospital," he whined, not quite lucid.

"... Where you can get better..?" Oswald sighed at him. Ed pouted, something he'd taken to religiously after falling ill, "I'll get better quicker here."

"How?"

"I like it here."

~ ~ ~

Well past one in the morning of the fourth night, Oswald awoke to the sound of his door being opened. He slipped his hand under the pillow for his knife before he recognized the silhouette as Ed.

"Edward?"

"I'm sorry."

"Hmm?"

"I didn't mean to wake you," Ed clarified.

"It's alright. Did you need something?"

Ed shrugged.

"Can you elaborate?"

"Bad dream," he said quietly. Oswald blessed the darkness for concealing his smile. A serial killer like Ed afraid of a nightmare. It was... relatable.

"Do you want to sit up with me? Maybe talk about it?"

Ed shifted in the doorway, "I - don't want to get you sick," his voice was scratchy and stuffy from the cold, so the concern seemed valid. Oswald took his turn to shrug, "I'll be fine, Edward. Come. Sit," he patted the bed beside him and turned on a nearby lamp.

He swallowed hard as Ed settled carefully on top the covers next to him.

"So what was it about?"

"I... I was still working for the GCPD. As if... as if I never got caught. You were mayor, and we were... friends. You hung out at the GCPD a lot. Everybody knew I was one of 'your' people. But... Flass was still there too. I don't think you ever met Flass. He was a jerk. And he, he said, 'You're funny,' so I asked, 'Why?' and he said, 'Because you haven't given up yet,' and of course I was confused, so I questioned him, 'Given up what?' and he just laughed and told me, 'Given up on love. Isn't it obvious? They never love you back. You spent so long trying to win Kristen's heart and now you're doing it all over again.' And then he attacked me, pushed me to the ground, so I drew my knife, but you came out of nowhere and killed him and I was so grateful and I just, I just said it. I just told you I love you out of the blue, no fretting or riddles or anything. And then you looked at me and yanked me up to my feet, except, you pulled yourself right onto my knife, and I was apologizing and there was so much blood and you just locked eyes with me and said, 'Better this than you, Freak,' and then your eyes glazed over and - and - and you were dead. I just wanted to make sure you weren't dead," Ed finished lamely, sniffling into a tissue. Oswald wasn't sure how much was from the cold and how much was from restrained tears, but it hardly mattered at this point. What mattered was the fact that Ed has just said he loved Oswald. Hadn't he?

"Ed, what - "

"You're not going to die, right Oswald?"

Oswald tried to form an answer, anything from, "We all die," to, "I love you, too," but nothing was managing to make the journey from brain to mouth. By the time he'd settled on a, "I'm not planning on it," he turned to Ed only to find him sound asleep, face half buried in Oswald's pillow.

Oswald froze. Had Ed been in some sort of heavily altered post-dream state? Would he even remember this conversation in the morning? And did he mean anything he'd said?

Ed let out a sad but cute noise in his sleep and Oswald felt a smile curling at his lips. Ed was really perfect, wasn't he. Oswald couldn't imagine an angel with a prettier face, nor a devil with a more cunning mind.

Brushing back the locks of hair splayed across his forehead, Oswald decided to procrastinate on his worrying with sleep. He still didn't dare kiss him, for fear of waking him up, but he did risk tracing a light finger across Ed's cheekbone and whispering, "Goodnight," to him. He was tempted to add a, "Darling," but that felt too intimate.

~ ~ ~

Oswald was alone when he woke. He would have thought the whole thing a dream and been done if not for the fact that the other side of the bed was clearly rumpled. Curious as to where Ed might be, he followed his nose to the kitchen to find Ed aggressively flipping pancakes.

"Ed?"

At the sound of his name, Ed froze. He turned around as slowly as Oswald thought possible, forehead creased in worry, "Oswald?"

"How are you feeling?"

Ed bit his lip and swallowed, "I," he coughed and looked away, "Better. Thank you. And you?"

"Just as good as always. I wondered where you'd gone. Do you need any help with breakfast?"

"Oswald, please - " he cut himself off, focus back on the task at hand.

"Please what?"

Ed set down the spatula and let his shoulders slump, not turning back to look at Oswald as he said, "About last night... what I said... you don't have to do this, Oswald. You don't have to try and make me feel better. I - I don't know why I said that, I mean. I promise, my work won't be affected, and - "

"Edward."

Ed shut his jaw with a snap.

"Now, when you get better, would you permit me to take you out somewhere? For dinner, perhaps?"

"Oswald, I just said, you don't have to do this - "

"And I heard you, Edward. Now, _when you get better, would you permit me to -_ "

"Yes," Ed interrupted with enthusiasm and then promptly clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes going wide with shock.

"Good. Now," Oswald pried Ed away from the stove, "You're still sick, so you're going to sit down while I finish this for you, okay?"

"Oswald, I can - "

"As your boss I order you to sit down and wait," Oswald snapped, pulling rank to speed things along. Ed needed to get off his feet and back to resting as soon as possible.

"Hmph," Ed crossed his arms and sat in Oswald's chair, pout on full power.

"Thank you for being so cooperative," Oswald replied calmly.

He picked up the discarded spatula and quickly removed the slightly-overdone pancakes before pouring two new ones onto the griddle. Pouring pancakes had always been a hassle for him - he and his mother both preferred waffles - but he wisely said nothing, knowing Ed had been _trying_. Trying to do what exactly, Oswald wasn't sure, and that hurt. Trying to pretend like nothing had happened? Trying to seduce him? Trying to convince Oswald not to send him away?

That last stung even worse as he dwelled on the dream Ed had described to him in delirium. Did Ed really think he would do that? Say that? _Think_ that?

Well, sure, he'd kill this 'Flass' person. He thought he vaguely recalled a shitty corrupt cop by that name, but even so. He'd kill anyone for Ed.

But the rest of the dream? Oswald knew from listening to Ed's stories back in the apartment that it was a mockery of his fight with Dougherty, that it had been _Dougherty_ pulling himself onto the knife like a dumbass, but... Did that mean Ed's subconscious mind connected him to Dougherty? That couldn't be a good sign.

"Ed - "

Ed's gaze snapped up from where he'd been trying to burn holes in the table with his glare, too curious for his own good.

"Hmm?"

"You do know it was just a dream, right? I'm not dead and I don't think you're a freak. How could I? Have you met me? Besides," he took a deep breath, "I would consider myself the luckiest man alive if you ever said those words to me."

Edward's jaw dropped open slightly, and Oswald took the opportunity to place the last two pancakes on a platter and bring it over to the table, which, he noticed, was already set. He served the smoothest, roundest, most solid-colored ones to Ed, knowing he liked them best, before choosing a large, discolored one for himself and drowning it in syrup and powdered sugar. Ed grimaced at Oswald's plate as he began to methodically butter his own before returning to their conversation.

"You don't have to be nice to me just because I'm sick. I know that's not true, and - "

"Do not tell me what I do and do not think of you, Edward."

"Then please, just tell me," Ed begged, "I can't figure you out, Oswald. I've tried, but you always manage to surprise me. Normally I love that, but I - I - " he broke off in a coughing fit and Oswald sighed.

When the coughs died down, Ed mumbled the end of his sentence into a pancake, "But I'm so afraid that I'm just projecting..."

Oswald, no matter how criminal, had always been a protector. He protected his mother, himself, _Gotham_ , even Jim once upon a time. But now it was Ed under his protection, and hearing the fear and doubt in his voice kicked Oswald's instincts into gear, effectively blocking his own insecurities from his mind: there was no time to worry about his own problems when Ed sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

"I love you, Edward. I don't know how long I have, but I realized it the night after Butch attacked you. I was so so scared when I thought you were dead... I hadn't been that scared since the death of my father, and I realized that you must be important to me, and then the answer was right there and I, I didn't know what to do with it. You are brilliant, tall, handsome, _powerful_... you could have anyone. So why would you want me?" he explained his own insecurities, not as one who lacked confidence, but as an explanation, a reassurance, as to why he had not acted.

"Oswald, if I'm powerful, it's only because you helped me become so. As for the rest? Even if it's all true, which I doubt, when has that ever gotten me anyone? I had to kill my last girlfriend's boyfriend before I was even a blip on her radar. You - you're the _Penguin_. The King of Gotham. You're the most powerful man in the entire _city_ and I'm just the weird scientist who kidnapped you and annoyed you and turned you away when you needed me most, and - "

"You do know I got the name 'Penguin' for being ugly and deformed, right?"

"We all have unfortunate nicknames, Oswald, but how many of us can make the ones who initially gave them to us cower in fear upon hearing them? True, you aren't what modern society would call handsome, but you're _regal_ and you exude so much power I can practically see it like an aura around you, a halo. I am a cynical man, but if I am the cynic, than you are my dark Apollo and I would do _anything_ you permit."

It was a beautiful speech, only marred by the hacking cough that followed it. Oswald sat on the edge of his chair, desperate to help but knowing there was nothing he could do for him. These sorts of things just had to be waited out.

"But just so we're clear," Ed wheezed through his coughing, "I love you, too."

Oswald broke out into a blinding smile and rubbed a soothing hand over Ed's back, "I couldn't be happier. Now eat your pancakes and I'll go make you another cup of tea."


End file.
